


Raw and Weary

by Estelathan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Some foul lanuage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 07:38:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6070798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estelathan/pseuds/Estelathan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It figures, it really does, that if Dean had to be dying (yet again) it would end up being in a crappy abandoned warehouse in the middle of godforsaken nowhere USA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raw and Weary

  
_I-I can't do this anymore. . ._ Dean thinks sluggishly as he stares in dazed wonder as the world around him blurs in and out of focus. It could almost be considered pretty the way the sunlight is pouring in from a far-off window somewhere to reflect off the warehouse's high-beamed ceiling but to Dean all it looks like is a wobbling ball of light that won't remain still no matter how much he continues to stare at it. Had he the energy for it he would have scoffed at his current pitifulness, or rolled his eyes or something, because apparently it takes dying for him to get real with himself nowadays, but he doesn't and therefore doesn't. Rather he remains sprawled out on the dirty cement floor where the latest evil sonofabitch had dumped his ass like a dirty forgotten rag.

The irony isn't lost on Dean because of course, if he's going to die again he's going to do it in the middle of some long abandoned factory warehouse in the middle of godforsaken nowhere, USA. Seriously, is it like a baddie requirement or something? If a dungeon or sewer or something isn't available a warehouse is the next thing in line? They had been hunting--he, Sam, and Cas, Dean remembers as he drifts in and out. They had come across a case a few days ago about kids suddenly up and vanishing from their beds at night and they hadn't hesitated to check it out. The name of whatever-the-hell spawn the creature had been escapes Dean's memory but it had been a vicious bastard. It had kept the kids alive just so it could eat them at a later time like it was storing meat up for the winter or some other screwed up reason, but they had tracked it down in the end. And of course the trail had led right back here to this crappy, could-blow-over-with-a-gust-of-wind freaking warehouse. Dean had been thrilled. . . _Not_.

Sam and Cas had shared Dean's lack of enthusiasm for the place but they had quickly fallen into game mode and the rest after that turns into a blur. Dean knows they had split up somewhere along the way with everyone going in a different direction but the how and the why are lost under the mound of pain that used to be his sternum and the crushing realization that it had been a bad idea _. Pain means 'yer still alive idiot!_ Dean can hear Bobby's voice telling him but it’s getting fainter just like the world is getting wobblier and darker around the edges. It's not a good sign, Dean knows, but hell if he can do anything about it. He thinks he remembers fighting the thing, or at the very least remembers the thing's pointy barbed tail lashing out at him, but for the life of him he can't remember if he actually killed the damn thing or not.

Dean hopes he did; at this point it's a matter of pride rather than anything else. For as far back as he can remember he had always boasted that he'd die with a blade in his hand, and while that part is true enough--he can still feel the worn grip of the knife against his palm, taking as many of the evil bastards down with him. Reality is, of course, different. He still has the blade but he's too far gone to take anything down with him if he didn't already take it down and ain't that just a kick in the pants? The whole thing is getting absurd, and perhaps Dean is further gone than he thinks he is because he tries to huff out a laugh but all that emerges is a weak strangled noise that nowhere resembles the chuckle he was actually aiming for. It gets lost in his throat, trapped underneath all the blood that continues to bubble up and over his lips before trailing down his chin.

It's disgusting, but who gives a shit? It's not like there's an audience here to witness any of this in the first place, yet Dean feels there really should be. It takes long pain-filled moments which seem to stretch out into eternity to figure out why but when it does the last piece of the puzzle comes slamming home: Where's Sam and Cas? Panic surges through Dean and despite the cold and the pain weighing him down he somehow finds the strength to struggle. It's not much; in the end all he manages to do is roll onto one side and pant harshly as the change brings with it pain sharp enough to white-wash his brains into oblivion, but it does help give him a better view when he finally forces his eyes back open again.

Sam and Cas are nowhere to be seen but in a strange, muted way that's okay. Dean fervently hopes that where ever the two of them are, they're safe. He hopes they've found the kids and are getting them to safety rather than bleeding out somewhere alone in this stupid place like he is. Getting himself ganked is one thing, hazards of the job, but Dean knows he could never truly rest with the knowledge that he'd gotten the two people he cares about the most in this world killed as well. It's knowledge he's not likely to get in the however-many-minutes he has left, but if he has to go out like this Dean's determined to go thinking the best for Sam and Cas while he can. They'll be okay as long as they have each other, of that he's certain, and with that thought firmly in mind he squeezes his eyes closed and lets the world melt away.

Time passes as the world drifts lazily in and out around Dean: distantly he can feel the cold from the floor leeching up through his clothes and into his bones before the sensation is gone again without a thought; from far away comes a loud bang followed in rapid succession by several more; somewhere a bird call echoes and then there’s the sound of running footsteps but it all melts together into one big cornucopia of noise that joins in with the ringing in Dean’s ears and becomes just as meaningless.

It’s the sudden onslaught of warmth that finally drags his sorry ass back into the land of the living again. It starts at his head, cupping his face gently before moving down his neck and spreading out from there. Like everything else beyond the pain it’s a muted sensation but Dean can feel the warmth as it spreads out over him. It works methodically down him like it’s checking him for addition injuries beyond the obvious one in his gut, and maybe that should have been a clue but Dean was far too gone to care, before it finally comes to rest against his hands that are still trying to hold his innards in. It remains there, encasing his hands in a comforting warmth that Dean’s dizzied mind wants nothing more than to melt into. A low groan manages to escape through the blood clogging up his throat and with great effort Dean manages to slit his eyes open to see what’s causing this sudden source of comfort.

The world at large is still nothing more than a nauseating bobbing blob of light but there’s no mistaking the teetering outline that’s hovering before him nor the unmistakable dark shadows looming over its shoulders: “C-Cas?” Dean breathes, the single word pure agony on top of the mound he’s already drowning in, unsure if the angel is truly there or if he’s simply imagining him. A part of him has to wonder where Sam is if Cas has found him, but he forces it into silence. As much as he loves Sammy the kid has seen him go too many times already and if he can be spared from seeing it again Dean’s grateful.

“Dean.” The angel greets, and Dean’s fairly sure he couldn’t hallucinate that deep gravelly voice nor the way Cas is squinting at him like he hasn’t seen Dean in a worse position than this one before. He’s kneeling next to Dean, his hands pressing tight against Dean’s own where they’re pressed against his wound but the look on Cas’ face is all kinds of wrong even to Dean’s failing eyes. He’s seen the angel look blank, rebellious, angry, and scared and everything in between over the years but the look he’s sporting now is nothing short of sorrow and it doesn’t take a genius to realize that Dean’s well and truly screwed.

The realization isn’t much a surprise, and it ain’t like this is his first rodeo with dying after all, but damn Dean would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt all the same. He’s in no condition to complain; he can no longer feel his hands or much of anything else, and while that’s a blessing compared to the pain he was in, he knows he’s reaching the end of the line. “C-Cccaas?” He manages, his voice garbled and thick with barely any sound behind it. “A-am . . . I . . .?” He stutters, the copper tang filling his mouth and drowning the rest of his words in blood. _Am I going back to hell?_ As much as Dean doesn’t want to hear the answer he needs to know. He can accept there’s no getting out of this mess he’s gotten himself into but he needs to know where he’s going to end up.

Thankfully Cas seems to understand what Dean’s asking as he leans in closer to Dean’s face. “You won’t return to hell,” He soothes, his voice deep with promise. “You’ve earned your heaven and nobody can take that from you.” A hand comes up to rest against the side of Dean’s face again. “Just rest Dean. I’ll watch over you.”

Castiel is being sappy, for him at any rate, and were the situation different Dean would have been rolling on the floor laughing his ass off at the angel. You could strand Cas with the rest of the mud-monkeys and teach him all about being human and emotions and shit but in the end there had simply been no erasing that oddball sincerity of his. It was often irritating at the best of times, but right now, well it was kind of nice. The barest hint of a smile quirked on Dean’s lips as his eyes slid closed once more. Cas said he would watch out for him and that was good enough for Dean.

 

 

He closed his eyes and let go.


End file.
